


We meet yet again (don’t go, it’s been too long)

by Ivy_n_better



Category: Bleach
Genre: Better Than Canon, Dirty Jokes, Genderbending, Humor, I almost forgot!, Implied Apocalypse, Multi, Post-Thousand Year Blood War Arc, Shapeshifting (mentioned), The Little Prince quotes, Time Travel, a bit - Freeform, all FanFiction is better than Bleach’s epilogue, and original quotes inspired on them:), cursing, idk how to tag, implied apocalyptic future, no beta we die like men, that is not a tag but I stand by what I said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_n_better/pseuds/Ivy_n_better
Summary: The death of Head Captain Yamamoto marked the beginning of the end. Or would have, if not for the intervention of a golden-eyed woman. Answers are politely demanded, and some Shinigami can’t remain serious for 5 minutes straight.Or:Urahara doesn’t care about gender, Ichigo is too easy to fluster and Yamamoto was going to need either an aspirin or a drink after this, goddamnit.





	We meet yet again (don’t go, it’s been too long)

“Farewell, Shigekuni Yamamoto.”

As Yhwach announced those words, he raised his Reishi sword to slice the Head Captain’s bust from his body.  
Except, the sword didn’t even come close enough to draw a drop of the old man’s blood. 

In the middle of them, with a sword blocking Yhwach’s strike, was a beautiful woman. Despite the full on war that was going on, she looked impeccable. Not a white hair out of place and dressings immaculate.

She wore an expensive-looking kimono, with long sleeves which almost touched the ground (something no warrior would wear, as it would prove inconvenient in battle), a too-loose collar that showed way too much shoulders and cleavage and two symmetrical gaps that reached mid-thigh and showed her bare-fitted legs.

It was completely black, patterned with white statice flowers, white heathers and white magnolias, held together by a crimson obi and tied with a butterfly knot.  
She would have looked perfectly at home at a tea house if not for the two scabbards on her back. The shorter of the two still had it’s blade sheathed, the longer one’s sword however rested on it’s owner’s hand, blocking Yhwach’s heavy strike like it was a stick being swung by a child.

The Head Captain would later make this observations, for at the moment all he could do was fall to his knees and stare astonished as he was spared death and the Quincy King was obliterated by a single swing of the woman’s sword.

——  
After killing like flies the various Sternritters that had thrown themselves at her for killing their king (including the white haired one that had seemed to follow Yhwach everywhere), the woman turned towards him, kneeled without caring for the dirt and blood staining her clothing and proceeded to heal his most dangerous injuries, albeit a bit sloppily in comparison to the 4th squad Captain.

His voice was croaky and his tone sounded exhausted, very undignified of the Gotei 13’s leader, but this woman had killed the most dangerous foe and had healed him of his most lethal wounds. He figured he could afford to not be as paranoid for once.

“Who are you?”

The woman stopped watching with suspicion a barely healed stab wound and raised her head to look at him dead in the eyes. ‘Gold and sharp like an ornate dagger’, he thought as he gazed at her face for the first time. Her eyes were the most startling colour, resembling molten gold. Before his mind could wander, speculating if she was perhaps a relative of the yellow-eyed Shihoin clan, she responded his question in a frustratingly cryptic way.

“Who I am, among other things, will be revealed soon.”  
Her face would have been carefully blank, if not for the faint grin at his frustrated expression.

The two immediately sensed the dark hybrid Reiatsu approaching at fast speeds, but other than a glance they didn’t do anything more than rest. Or, well, Yamamoto rested, as he was the one who had spent the last hours fighting, but the woman laid there next to him, as if they were on a picnic contemplating the views.

As Ichigo landed he couldn’t repress the surprised face at the picture they made. An old, bloodied man and a beautiful woman sitting relaxed surrounded by the bodies of their fallen enemies, and a deep crater just 10 meters next to them.

The hybrid then spoke to the Head Captain, but looking at the white haired lady with suspicion.

“Head Captain, I didn’t sense anyone with you.”

And it was true, the Reiatsu of the woman, if she had any, couldn’t be sensed. How he hadn’t realised before, he couldn’t know. He had to be more injured and tired than he thought.  
Seeing as she had a Zanpakuto and no broken hollow mask, the woman had to be a Shinigami, and yet, in all his years Yamamoto hadn’t once seen this lady nor sensed a Captain-level Reiatsu that wasn’t familiar.

She was a true mystery. But for now she didn’t seem an enemy. He didn’t see any need for hostility against someone who had just annihilated the most dangerous foe the Gotei 13 had seen under his leadership. That was just asking for enemies. Suspicion on the other hand was mandatory in his line of work. The boy at least had had the good intuition to not attack the unknown factor.

Yamamoto dismissed his worries.

“She killed the Quincy leader and some Sternritters. She’s not an enemy.” The ‘Yet’ was implied, but it seemed that the woman didn’t care, because she had the audacity to roll her eyes and rise, offering him a helping hand.

The old Shinigami eyed her hand, but stood on his own without showing much difficulty.

“We should go to the 4th Squad’s barracks to check all your injuries and regroup with the other Captains.” She eyed the two of them, as if assessing their ragged, bloodied bodies.

The suspicion hadn’t faded from the young Kurosaki’s face, but he seemed to accept the suggestion.  
Yamamoto was a bit bitter at being directed, but he admitted in his mind that it was probably the wisest thing to do at the moment.  
He just hoped that all his Captains had made it back.

——  
As the Head Captain headed back to the Captain’s temporary meeting room, Ichigo had been subtly saddled with the surveillance of the unknown woman. They were walking side by side through the hallways full of wounded of the 4th. He glanced by the corner of his eye at her.

While he was getting first aid care, she had changed her elaborate kimono for a plain white one, which slightly resembled the clothes Rukia was dressed with when she had been imprisoned and almost executed. She was beautiful, similar in body type to Yoruichi (not that he wanted to bring back the image of her naked, he didn’t particularly want to resemble a tomato for no apparent reason), with bright golden eyes, tanned skin and long white hair which was beginning to grow a light apricot at the roots. Something that caught his attention was the scar all around her neck. Like a sadistic choker, it looked as if someone had stitched her head to her neck.

She turned her head towards him and raised an eyebrow, as if questioning his stare.  
He frowned further and glared at her, daring her to complain at his observing.  
She chuckled in amusement and a grin formed in her face before asking:

“So you are the famous Ichigo Kurosaki, huh?”

“What of it?” He was almost expecting her to try to kill him now, all while yelling ‘Then you’re my intended target!’, or something as cliché as that.

She didn’t do that, thankfully, she just shrugged and commented:

“Nothing, I’ve just heard a lot about you. The Shinigami who hang out at the bar I work at like to gossip too much. You’d think they’d have better things to do than that. Like, I don’t know, training, for example.”

That comment startled a snort out of Ichigo, which in turn made the white-headed woman grin even more at him.

“You shouldn’t frown so much. Smiling won’t kill you, and people are more inclined to trust a friendly smile.”

“That’s rich, coming from you, Poker Face.”

“That’s Miss Poker Face to you, brat!” She snarked back with mock anger and a smirk teasing her lips.

He was going to reply when he heard the voice of his friend Hanataro calling him to give him more treatment.  
After refusing multiple times more treatment, with the excuse that there were people more wounded, Shinji called his name.  
“Rukia and Abarai’s procedure is done.”

The three entered the Critical Wound Treatment Department and were informed by a 4th Squad nurse that their condition was stable.  
He bantered with Rukia, and he was so glad he still could.

“You came...to save the Soul Society. Thanks.” Rukia thanked him so sincerely, panting from effort, that he couldn’t help but feel like a fraud, knowing he had bern unable to prevent his friends getting hurt.

“Of course. Although I couldn’t do a thing this time!” It was said offhandedly, but he felt those words in his heart. That feeling of uselessness didn’t seem to go away.

“You stupid?” Questioned suddenly Shinji, sounding incredulous.

“You gave everyone that felt yer Reiatsu the hope of victory. If you hadn’t come lotsa’ people would’ve given up n’gotten themselves killed.”

That little pep-talk from Hirako seemed to lighten up the load on Ichigo’s shoulders, knowing that at least he he had raised the morale.  
Remembering the advice he had been given by the white haired woman, he directed a small, grateful smile to Shinji, who’s eyes in response widened a bit in surprise and cheeks became dusted with pink.

“Thanks, Shinji.”

As Shinji averted his eyes, a messenger entered the room and announced:

“All Captains available, Ichigo Kurosaki and the unknown woman have been summoned to the temporary meeting room by order of Head Captain Yamamoto.”

Shinji yawned and lazily waved a hand at the messenger, dismissing him without a word.  
The blond turned to face his fellow Visored and noticed the mysterious woman leaning on the wall and checking her nails.

“We goin’?” He drawled, while keeping an eye on Gold-eyes, not wanting to lower his guard in front of an outsider.

Ichigo nodded and bid farewell to Rukia, shooting Renji’s unconscious body a look before getting out of the medical room.  
As they walked towards the meeting room through multiple hallways, the woman suggested trying to inform Urahara of the situation. Ichigo agreed and though Shinji did too, he was more wary.

They called Urahara and thankfully he answered, sounding surprised and worried. When he was told that Yhwach was dead and they had an unknown woman with them. At that, he suggested passing by and taking a look at her, sounding far too casual to not be scheming something.

A weight seemed to fall off the ginger’s shoulders, his steps lighter when he was reassured that his friends were alright. After hanging up the phone and putting it back into the pocket of his Hakama, they continued to walk in silence towards the meeting place.

——  
Entering, Ichigo took note that Byakuya, Kenpachi and that fucking Clown Kurotsuchi were all missing, the former two for their battle injuries and the latter had hopefully died, though knowing that cockroach, that was unlikely.

After arriving to the correct room and silently waiting for 30 minutes for his friends to return from Hueco Mundo, the awkward atmosphere inside the room was making Ichigo and the majority of the Captains present fidgety.

Thankfully, the door soon opened and bursted inside a bubbly Orihime, who threw herself at Ichigo declaring that she was so glad that he was alright, followed by the silent wall of muscle that was Chad, who just squeezed softly his shoulder and murmured that he knew his best friend could take care of himself.

Behind Ichigo’s friends entered Kisuke Urahara, who took one look at the room and immediately stood on guard hands on his Zanpakuto disguised as a cane, and eyes fixed on the white haired woman with a look of disbelief on them. He narrowed his eyes, full of suspicion and recognition.

“Who are you?” He asked warily and with a threatening voice.

The woman watched him with an amused expression, not the least wary at having an ex-Captain acting hostile towards her.

“Now, now, you don’t even recognise the scar your sword put on my neck?” Her tone was mocking, as if she expected better of the scientist.

The room immediately tensed at her words, expecting a fight to occur, due to their violent past, and a fight between two individuals as powerful as them was something no one in Soul Society could afford.

Surprisingly, no violence followed the question, but Urahara’s eyes did widen in surprise and, if it was possible, an even more wary expression etched itself in his face, and if one observed carefully rage and denial could be seen in his glare.

“The person you’re imitating is dead, so, i repeat. Who are you?”  
His voice trembled with barely suppressed anger, and some Captains had began to reach for their Zanpakutos, already sensing trouble.

“Wait,” Ichigo interrupted, “you know her?”

Urahara sharply directed a glare in his direction, the boy wincing at the harsh look.  
“No.” He growled. “I knew the person it’s mimicking, but it’s impossible for them to be alive. Besides, that’s not even a good imitation, the look’s way too different.”

The woman’s eyes softened, full of affection and melancholy. When she spoke, her tone was gentle, as if speaking with a frightened animal.

“You can’t really believe you’re the only one that came here. You know I have a bigger tendency to break the universe’s laws than you.”

Some of his caution and anger slipped off his posture. He still radiated hostility, but there was an incredulous sort of hope in his eyes.

“If you really are who you’re insinuating to be, you must know this. What did I say to you before dying?” 

Everyone in the room’s eyes were full of surprise and curiosity. It was rarely heard for people to remember their human lives, and encountering someone who knew you and saw you die was even rarer. What could be Kisuke Urahara’s last words?

The women’s face transmitted sadness and grief, but also a bit of fondness, strangely. She smiled mournfully, opened her mouth and began speaking:

“Look at the stars, my little prince, and laugh, knowing that as capricious as she is, Fate allowed us to meet under them.”

The ex-Captain’s defensive pose melted away as if it had never existed, his eyes full of surprise, which turned with each word into incredulous happiness.  
He began quoting the next line with her, his voice in perfect harmony with hers.

“Laugh at the stars, remembering the infinite joy it brought us both, spending time together.”

They started walking towards each other slowly, looking into each other’s eyes, not ever noticing they were moving while focused so much on the other. Even though they were saying the phrases with a loving tone, the words itself were a longing sort of sad.

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me... You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure... It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh.”

When they met halfway, their hands seemed to find each other’s, while the woman raised her free hand to cup Kisuke’s face, rubbing softly a line with her thumb from the bottom of his grey eye to the bottom of his jaw, tracing something that couldn’t be seen. Meanwhile, Kisuke’s hand held her close from the waist, the other tracing invisible patterns on the woman’s knuckles.

“And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!'”

The woman laughed then, a brilliant sound that lightened everyone’s hearts, as if it was such an unused sound that their souls instinctively knew they should appreciate it.

The scene was so intimate, that some had the urge to look away, but their sight was fixed on the scene, as if mesmerised by the tender moment.

“Because you wasted so much time on me, you made me feel very important. So thank you, my little prince, for seeing me as worth taming.”

Their foreheads met, gold and grey still gazing lovingly at each other.  
No one in the room dared to interrupt the reunion, some for being breathless and frozen in fascination and others knowing it could still backfire.

“We used to read that book the nights we couldn’t sleep, and as bad as the situation was, being with you made it better.” The woman told the blond in front of her, leaning her hands on his shoulders.

Kisuke took her waist with both hands and separated from her face a bit to look at her more clearly, and with a subtle smile and a tremulous yet humour-filled tone he whispered:  
“I should know the story by heart, if I could quote part of it on my deathbed.”

They stood still for a moment, before embracing each other with emotion, the woman on her tiptoes and the scientist draped around her, stubbly chin on her shoulder tickling her.  
The breathless affirmation that escaped Kisuke’s mouth trembled with pure joy against her neck.

“It’s really you.”

They stayed together for a moment more, before hearing someone clear their throat and separating, turning to the other occupants in the room. They still stood close though, as if the other could disappear any moment.

“What’s this meeting about, then?” The woman asked.

The atmosphere of the room suddenly transformed. The Captains all returned to their previous professionalism.  
At the question the Head Captain raised an expecting eyebrow, still managing to look serious and intimidating.

“I seem to recall you saying you would reveal ‘your name’ among ‘other things’ soon?”

The pair turned towards the other, silently debating how to respond, before they seemed to come to an agreement.  
Urahara turned to speak towards Ichigo and his friends, who had stayed together during all the occurrence.

“Ichigo, I’d like you to meet yourself from the future.”  
“Pleasure.” The woman, or future Ichigo, said immediately after his nonchalant declaration with a deadpan voice, indulging him and his sense of humour.

Ichigo’s expression turned from surprised to incredulous to enraged.  
“Are you kidding? Now’s not the time for jokes, Hat-and-clogs!”

“Oh, it’s no joke. I really am you from the future.” She said dryly with a wry smirk.

“Okay, the joke could work. Unfortunately, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this fact, I am not a woman!” He practically yelled at the end with a scowl, fuming.

Urahara casually turned to Future Ichigo and asked:  
“I am curious about that as well. How did you manage that?”

“When I arrived, I appeared in the Rukongai, one of the lower districts, and because of my warrior-like appearance, I attracted a lot of negative attention.”

She opened a bit the front of her loose white Kimono, and everyone’s eyes widened. She rolled her eyes at them. What did they think, that she was going to flash them?  
Ichigo’s face reddened and she suddenly understood why Yoruichi had always appeared naked in front of them. It was amusing, seeing such a serious boy all flustered, the blush on his face rather cute.  
She separated the cloth a bit for them to see what she wanted them to. And there, in the crease between her breasts, rested the Hogyoku, in all its ominous, purple glory.  
The surprise from the room was audible, some of its occupants actually gasped out loud.

“You see, thanks to the wishing marble-” Urahara snorted at the name, gaining a grin from her. “I could change to a less threatening form, and blend easily with the Rukongai’s inhabitants. You wouldn’t believe how many people would underestimate a pretty woman.”

She actually laughed at the dumbfounded faces some made.  
“C’mon. What else would have brought us to the past?”

Some considered the answer to that, quietly agreeing that having seen what the artefact could do, it was possible it could do that. Some others looked incredulously at Urahara, and, at last, Shinji voiced the question that had risen.

“Urahara, yer from the future too?”  
Urahara looked at him from beneath his hat and smiled brilliantly, an expression often described as irritant by witnesses.

“Why, yes Captain Hirako, I am from the future!” He declared with cheer, drawing a fond, exasperated smile from Future Ichigo.

Now that they thought about it, it made a lot of sense. He always seemed to expect the bizarre situations they found themselves in, always knew more than he let on and had plans and countermeasures for everything. If it wasn’t the time-travel thing, there was also the possibility of him being the evil mastermind all along, and somehow that was more terrifying than all the situations the Soul Society had found itself in.

Soi-Fon realised soon a flaw in the situation.  
“How come you don’t look different, then?” She questioned, as if she was conducting an interrogation for the Punishment Force.

Urahara’s smile seemed to widen, if that was even possible. He removed his hat and placed it on the nearest head to him, which so happened to be White-haired Female Ichigo’s. It looked comically big on her head but strangely cute.  
With his face for all to see, he reached with his fingers the bottom of his eyes.

“I do look different, Captain Soi-Fon.”  
While he said that, he pinched his skin and pulled, separating a thin layer that had covered his cheek from his face. His other hand did the same to the other side of his face, the skin-like material resting on his hand instead of his face now.  
The 2nd Squad Captain looked a bit nauseous and like she regretted asking.  
The humans and the Captains all looked a mix of horrified and surprised at the stitching-like scars that fell down Urahara’s cheeks like tears.

“You look better like this.” Future Ichigo nodded approvingly.  
Urahara turned to her and waggled his eyebrows. She snickered and shoved his face away from her.

“You’re so dumb.” 

“We haven’t seen each other for a hundred years and this is how you treat me? You’re so mean to me!” He playfully whined and then pouted, blinking pathetically at her.

Everyone obviously wanted to know how those scars, so similar to the one on his companion’s neck, had happened. But, they were Captains, and Aizen’s previous possession was a more pressing issue than satisfying their gossip hunger.  
She was going to retaliate when the captain of the 8th Squad interrupted their banter.

“Excuse me but, how did you end up with the Hogyoku in your possession, Ichigo Kurosaki?” Komamura questioned seriously and with a lot of curiosity, his head tilting comically like a confused dog.

“I actually took the name Kazuki so people wouldn’t question how my name was the same as the Substitute Shinigami. So, to avoid confusion, address me as that.” She requested while trying not to laugh at the Captain’s cute gesture.  
Practically everyone in the Soul Society knew the name Ichigo Kurosaki, so referring to herself as that while wanting to remain unnoticed was a bit dumb.

“‘Kazu’ from ‘harmony’ and ‘ki’ from ‘hope’, I suppose?” Urahara questioned, wanting to know if his assumptions about the Kanji were correct. At Kazuki’s nod he grinned and commented: “An appropriate name.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, and then she responded the question she had been previously asked.

“To answer your question, Komamura, I ripped it off Aizen’s chest.” She smiled happily, disturbing a bit the occupants of the room, except for the green-clad man next to her.

Urahara frowned, trying to remember if he had been present, but no memory came forward.

“I don’t remember that.”

She looked to the floor, eyes glazing at the memory, face completely blank.

“It happened after Kisuke died. He had reattached my head to my body, saving my life, and then bled out on my arms. I went back to the bunker feeling empty, and Shinji met me there.”  
She let out a bitter laugh at the faces they made when she mentioned the words ‘bunker’ and ‘Shinji’. She supposed they could guess that the future had been pretty fucked up, but she wasn’t going to start handing out details like candy right now.  
She looked at Kisuke’s pained face, probably imagining what would he do if she had died instead of him.  
She spoke to him then, voice mocking and pained:

“You should have seen his dumb face when he saw me alone and covered in your blood.”

The Shinji present mumbled an offended: ‘My face is not dumb’, but couldn’t bring himself to do much more. The truth was, he really cared about the reckless young Visored, he was one of of them, and he couldn’t stand the thought of watching the ginger suffering so much grief. Even though Kazuki didn’t look anything like the current Ichigo, he still felt the impulse to comfort her, like he had done before for the boy in Rukia and Abarai’s room, after accepting that she was the future version of his brat. The woman sounded truly fond of him, and it pained him that the kid and him weren’t as close as their future versions had been, as irrational as that sounded.

“When Shinji snapped me out of my shock, I could feel the rage and grief taking control of me, so I left the bunker and went on a rampage.”

When she saw Ichigo’s eyes widening in panic at loosing control, she chuckled without mirth at his expression.

“I was in my seventies, but my body had died back in my early thirties, so that’s why I look so young now. I was much older than you are now, and much more powerful too, so in my tantrum I did much more damage than you could ever hope to do now. Don’t worry though,” she reassured her younger version, when a horrified look was beginning to stretch across his face-“ there were no humans that I could hurt outside.”

Strangely, that didn’t seem to help, but she simply shook off the somber mood that had settled over the room and rapidly finished her tale.

“Aizen got in my way then, and I annihilated him like the pest he was. The Hogyoku attached itself to the most powerful host it could find, me, and I wished to fix the mess that had happened. I did it already, so you don’t need to get your knickers in a twist.”  
“That was a lame finale.” The low voice of Kyoraku Shunsui complained childishly. Ukitake simply rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“He’s damn right, it sucked.” Captain Kensei backed him up, his fellow Visored Rose nodding behind him.

Kazuki glared at them and announced with finality:  
“Well, that’s the only finale you get at the moment.” She turned to face the Head Captain. “Can I go now? I haven’t seen my lover in a hundred years and I have to remind him that I’m the best he’s gonna get.”

The Head Captain glared at her for that, but nodded. Some Captains began cat-calling at the words, meaning Kyoraku and Shinji the loudest. The rest either looked amused, disinterested or outwardly disgusted (Soi-Fon), but the greatest sight was the humans. Orihime was blushing and giggling, Chad was softly snickering at the expense of his best friend and poor Ichigo was red-faced, spluttering.

Kazuki turned towards the loud Captains and yelled above all the noise:  
“Oh, shut it! It’s not our fault we’re hot no matter the gender!”

That only seemed to male the 17 year old blush even more, practically steaming from how warm his face felt. Kazuki looked at her younger self and laughed, satisfied that she had flustered him so much.

She moved and grabbed Kisuke’s wrist, tugging him along with her to the door while saying:  
“You’re coming with me.” Leaving no room for discussion.

Kisuke simply followed and said:  
“I’ll try” Which only prompted more laughter, more embarrassment and him getting his own bucket hat thrown at his face because ‘There are kids here, Kisuke!’.

At this pandemonium Yamamoto sighed, knowing that they weren’t finished with the time-travellers, as well as all the trouble the Quincy war had caused.

He only could only imagine the mess that would have been created if Yhwatch had gotten out of their encounter alive after killing him.

Still, he had the dreaded feeling that business still wasn’t over, and he just hoped that two time-travellers didn’t worsen whatever situation they would face next.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! The flowers on the Kimono are written so specifically because they have meanings! Yay, flower language!
> 
> Magnolia: Dignity, Keep the faith & don't give up, Peserverence, Splendid beauty
> 
> Statice: Gratitude, Remembrance, Success, Lasting beauty
> 
> White Heathers: Protection from danger, Wishes will come true


End file.
